


An Unexpected Proposal

by ShatteredSwallowtail



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 11:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShatteredSwallowtail/pseuds/ShatteredSwallowtail





	An Unexpected Proposal

"You know you couldn't do it, Hiyori."

One blonde eyebrow twitched slightly as brown eyes swiveled to regard the source of the -- to her, at least -- unpleasent comment. She leveled a hmph and a slight growl at the speaker, as though in warning, before turning back to the task at hand. Which was sitting there, crouched on the rocky perch that was her preferred spot -- she'd even carved her name into it once when stupid Shinji made some snide remark about her "claim" to that particular outcropping -- and watching said idiot train with Mashiro. Squaring her shoulders, she ground her teeth silently and did her best to ignore the other girl and her ridiculous assumptions.

From her perch slightly above and to the left of Hiyori's favourite spot, Lisa hid a snicker and a grin behind her manga. Really, the bad-tempered blonde was so transparent at times that it was nearly comical. Stretching slightly before re-curling one long leg beneath her, she readjusted her glasses and turned the page, brown eyes trained on Hiyori over the top of the book.

_Really, still so in denial after all these years..._

It was true, whether Hiyori wanted to admit it, or not. And Lisa was relatively certain that the answer to that, had she posed the question, would have been an emphatic no. Dark eyes flickered across the page, attention skillfully averted as her "subject" glanced back over one red-garbed shoulder as if to make certain that the matter had indeed been dropped. Not that it really had, but then Lisa had always been adept at subterfuge. Unlike Hiyori, who was about as subtle as a plow-elk in a china shop. But then, she supposed, that was really why they suited each other so well.

Hiyori and Shinji, that is. Carefully watching as Hiyori's pigtailed head turned once more back to the fight below, she took a moment to inwardly chuckle at the similarities between now and a hundred years ago. Not just in the way they behaved towards each other, but in the things they did. The little things, when the other wasn't looking. Like the way his fights, training though they were, drew Hiyori's attention on an entirely different level, how she seemed to analyze and scrutinize every move and every strike to a level far beyond what she gave to the others. Or how even his little jibes and barbs that he tossed her way were all calculated, planned to strike just so, to bring her just to that point of aggravation where she was almost ready to explode, to let loose that tightly-drawn barrier that was always present. Oh, she knew there was history there, going back -- she assumed, from things hard and seen -- to far beyond the point where she'd come to know the two. But even beyond that history, which for all she knew could simply have been growing up beside one another, she could see something else. Something _more_.

Now, if she could only get them to notice, and admit it. No, she corrected herself, get _Hiyori_ to admit it, because she had it on good authority that Shinji had long since gotten over any internal struggles with the issue, and was only feigning ignorance because of Hiyori's staunch refusal to even consider the idea that she could have feelings for the lanky ex-captain.

Overall, it was aggravating. To everyone -- except maybe Hachi, with his always placid demeanor and assertions that the two would work things out "in time" -- but most especially to her, although Kensei griped about it the most whenever they were out of earshot. But it wouldn't be aggravating for much longer, at least not if she had anything to say about it. Hence her carefully calculated words, aimed oh so perfectly at one of the biggest sore spots about Sarugaki Hiyori's rather unassuming -- at least in stature -- person. Her pride. Clearing her throat in such a manner to seem an innocent gesture, she idly flipped another page, face still set in it's disinterested expression.

"Just admit it, Hiyori. You couldn't do it, so there's no reason to get all pissed off over it."

Snaggled teeth ground together for a moment, small fists clenching before she turned back to Lisa with a harsh glare. Bitch. She didn't know what the hell Lisa was playing at, but she'd damned well better leave it alone. Besides, it was idiotic. That's what it was, just plain idiocy. And she wasn't about to concede defeat to that sort of crap.

"Just shut the hell up, Lisa. It's stupid bullshit. 'Sides, just cuz I don't care doesn't mean I couldn't do it. It's just fucked up, that's all."

It was a bit of a struggle to keep the manga up, keep the pages held just so, so that they covered the widening grin the was spreading across her face. Perfect. Just where she wanted her, and now time to spring the trap, to take advantage of that vaunted pride that Hiyori clung so hard to, to take it and use it to force the younger girl to see what she didn't necessarily _want_ to see. Straightening up, she carefully closed the manga, resting the slim volume on her knees with a slightly challenging look on her face as she tossed her long braid of dark hair over one shoulder, cocking her head at the blonde.

"Oh really? Then prove it. Call it a bet. Or a dare, whichever you prefer. Either way, I don't think you've got it in you, Hiyori."

At those words, she had her desired result. With a growl that promised much pain later, should Hiyori be given the chance to dole it out, the smaller girl jammed a fist into the rock, heedless of the injury taken as knuckles split against the granite. Brown eyes narrowed into an even deeper scowl above freckled cheeks as she snarled her affirmative.

"Fine. But I'm only doin' it to prove you the hell wrong."

Shrugging her shoulders in a bored manner, Lisa nodded. Of course, that was the whole point. Only... it wasn't. The outcome she _really_ hoped for would be a little bit trickier to manage. The outcome that would result from a Hiyori who, deprived of the anger and abuse that she normally doled out to Shinji, would be forced to reckon with other emotions.

_Well Hiyori, I hope you'll be pretty surprised when you find out how hard it is to **not** care for someone when you're not using your anger as a wall between you._

Catching Hiyori's eye with a grin, she raised her chin triumphantly.

"Alright. But remember... you have to be _nice_ to him. Not just civil. And you can't just avoid him all day either, that doesn't count."

**************************************************************************************************************

Morning wasn't usually something that Hiyori greeted with any degree of emotion that could be considered either warmth or fondness, but this particular morning was met with an even greater degree of irritation and distaste. Sitting up in the rickety old cot she called a bed -- it worked, why the hell did she need something nicer anyway -- Hiyori dug fists into bleary eyes and shook touseled blonde hair out of her face before fumbling to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

_Stupid fuckin' morning..._

Though she couldn't quite put her mind to it -- not hardly a surprise, considering she was barely functional yet -- there was a nagging sensation in the back of her mind that told her there was something about _this_ particular morning that was going to be an even bigger pain in her ass than mornings generally were. Shoving the business end of a toothbrush into her mouth, she contemplated that feeling somewhat as she yanked thick hair into it's customary pigtails with a scowl.

_The hell is it about this morning that I'm supposed to remember, anyway?_

Resigning herself to the fact that it either a. didn't much matter or b. would invariably return to her at some point, she shoved hands into her pockets and trudged down the hallway towards the kitchen and it's conspicuously absent scent of breakfast, irritated look on her face. Who the hell hadn't made breakfast on their day, anyway?

Rounding the corner, she stalked into the kitchen. Surely someone would know who it was she had to beat to get some damned food. And then maybe she could figure out what the hell she couldn't remember. Her internal musings were abruptly interrupted by the sudden appearance of Shinji's face in her immediate personal space as he loomed in front of her, a somewhat displeased frown on his face.

"Oi. Hiyori."

She did _not_ jump. She didn't jump, and if anyone said she did, well then she was gonna kick their asses so hard they'd remember it next week, but first she was going to beat the hell out of stupid Dickface for- Suddenly, her mind ground to a screeching halt as she caught Lisa's stare, one dark eyebrow raised slightly as she watched from over her manga.

Oh no. Oh shit. _THAT_ was what she'd forgotten about. That stupid fucking wager. In a matter of microseconds, her mind flashed back to the conversation she and a bespectacled woman had shared the night before, when Lisa had come knocking on her door right before they all turned in for the night.

She'd opened the door -- half-expecting it to be Shinji, in the mood for another beating -- and instead had found the brunette standing there with a shopping bag. Lisa had ignored Hiyori's rather stunned response and simply walked in and settled herself on the smaller girl's cot, placing the pink -- why the hell was it _pink_, she HATED pink -- shopping bag on the floor by her feet before folding her hands almost primly and regarding Hiyori with a measured look.

"Now, about our wager."

Hiyori's look had told her all she needed to know about what the blonde thought of the "wager", but at least she listened, thin arms crossed defiantly over her chest as she leaned against the doorframe.

"Fine, the hell is it?"

Ignoring the brusqueness of Hiyori's words, Lisa simply continued. After all, either way it went, whether she won or lost, the outcome would be one that she considered "good". Folding her hands, she rested her chin on interlaced fingers to regard Hiyori.

"How about, if you win, I'll stop constantly teasing you about Shinji."

Rolling her eyes, Hiyori scoffed. Like that was supposed to be a prize? Shaking her head, she nodded towards the much-worn manga sitting on the bed beside Lisa.

"No, if I win, you stop reading those stupid things for a week."

Concealing her slight grin, Lisa made a point of acting as though she were contemplating, before nodding with an appropriately distressed expression on her face.

"All right, fine. If that's what you want. But if I win..."

Now this was the good part, as far as she was concerned. Reaching down into the bag, she pulled out the article in question and held it up for Hiyori to see, watching with smug satisfaction as a look of pure horror crossed the blonde's face. Cocking her head to the side, she grinned back at Hiyori.

"If I win... you wear this all day."  
Even now, in those few milliseconds as she automatically went for the sandal to slap him with, the memory of those moments flitted through her head, triggering an involuntary shudder. There was NO WAY she was going to wear that...that _thing_. Oh no. There was not going to be any pink, ruffled, beribboned, _cutesy_ dress in HER future, not if she had any say in the matter.

Memory of that dress was enough to break through reflex -- or instinct, she would have argued -- and force her to stiffen, fist clenching and then relaxing in a controlled, stiff manner as she took a deep breath through clenched teeth and forced her muscles to relax again.

_Remember the dress, remember the dress, remember the dress. You have to be NICE. Even if it's stupid dickface Baldy, you are NOT wearing a dress because of his stupid ass._

With teeth still gritted, she clenched her fists and looked up at him, carefully plastering a saccharine grin across her face, though the effect was rather lost when you considered the tension in her face and the rather angry glare in her eyes.

"G...Good morning, Ba-Shinji... Did you need something?"

*********************************************************************************************************

Even now, sitting at the table, the entire group -- save Lisa, who seemed strangely nonplussed by the situation -- sat in a somewhat horrified clump, all eyes focused on Hiyori's slight figure where she stood in front of the stove. Whistling. That in and of itself was unnerving, seeing as Hiyori _did not_ whistle, but what was really the source of their -- ok, yeah they could probably call it fear -- was the disconcerting grin plastered across her face. It was like watching a Hollow grin, or at least that was what they compared it to. Something twisted and unnatural, that shouldn't have been.

Edging over slightly towards Lisa, Shinji nodded his head towards Hiyori, nudging the bespectabled girl's elbow. Seeing as she was acting so calm, as if seeing such a frankly unnerving thing was second-nature, he assumed she had to know _something_ about it. There was also the plain and simple fact that normally, if there was something going on, Lisa was the one who knew about it. Whispering -- seeing as he still didn't know what would happen if Hiyori overheard him -- he kept one hazel-green eye fixed on the short blond.

"Oi.... the hell's goin on?"

As he waited for her to answer him -- which would also have involved putting down the manga and acknowledging his existence as a whole -- Shinji could hear the slight shift of bodies, the faint scrape of chair legs against floor that proved he wasn't the only one who wanted to know what was going on. Because there _had_ to be _something_ going on.

Unfortunately for Shinji -- and perhaps everyone else, too -- Lisa simply continued reading her manga, only giving them a noncommital shrug. She sat like that for a moment or two before glancing up at him with a neutral expression on her face.

"Maybe she's just decided to be nice for a change. You should enjoy it, it probably won't last."

He sat back, one eyebrow threatening to hit his hairline. Nice? _Hiyori_?! Not because he didn't think she _could_ be nice -- he did, he knew her well enough to know better -- he just never would have thought she'd willingly show it. Especially towards him. Hell, if she was going to be nice to _anyone_ he would have thought it far more likely to be Mashiro or Hachi, and mostly because the former was just the sort who didnt hardly notice when you were mean, and the latter had the patience of a saint. But _him_?!

Shinji knew she didn't hate him. Despite her words to the contrary, he knew that if she had to pick someone to call her "best friend", it would be him -- though she'd never admit it. They'd grown up together, gone through so much together. Not to say that the rest of the group hadn't shared a good portion of that "so much", but the two of them... they had history.

_Not the kind of history most people would think, though.._

He pushed that portion of his mind back where it belonged, back to the place he'd delegated for it years ago when he'd realized that even if she DID have similar ideas, she was never going to act on them, never even going to acknowledge him. Whatever the reason, he definitely shouldn't get his hopes up that any momentary bout of niceness was some sort of Hiyori-ism for feelings of a slightly more tender nature. His musings were interrupted by Kensei's snort of laughter and agreement.

"Yeah, it won't last. I've never seen her go this long without kickin the hell out of Shinji at least once."

Leveling a bored half-glare at the silver-haired man, Shinji fought the urge to roll his eyes. Kensei was right, and it was honestly a bit creepy, in spite of the fact that he was glad to be free of sandal-prints so far. But all in all, it was probably a trap. Actually, it was almost _certainly_ a trap. Likely, he was going to be served some sort of concoction that reminded him of the bento Kurosaki'd brought once. The one Rukia had made him. Suppressing an involuntary shudder at the remembered sight -- not to mention the stricken look on the orange-head's face as he'd realized what he'd promised to eat -- he silently hoped his visions of himself in the same state wouldn't prove to be true.

The impact of a plate with the table in front of him startled him out of his unpleasant ponderings, and he glanced up -- albeit a bit nervously -- to find Hiyori staring down at him. Thankfully she wasn't smiling that eerie grin anymore, but it was still strange to see the majority of the scowl she usually wore absent. Her brows were still drawn together slightly, mouth set in a displeased line, but all in all she simply looked mildly irritated.

Had he not been relatively certain that any commentary would be met with violence, Shinji might have said she looked nice that way. Instead, he just stared for a moment, until she rolled her eyes and paused as though contemplating which limb to break before heaving a sigh and scowling.

"What? Is there not enough syrup. _Again_?"

Shinji blinked in a complete lack of comprehension for a moment before actually glancing at the plate in front of him. Surprisingly enough, instead of the expected horrors he'd come up with in his mind, the only thing on the plate was a large -- and rather tasty-looking -- stack of pancakes, a pat of butter in the center, the whole stack drizzled with glistening syrup. Well. _That_ wasn't what he was expecting. Blinking again, and finally realizing what she'd asked him, he just shook his head.

"N...no. They're fine. Thanks."

She narrowed her eyes again and grumbled a slightly sullen-sounding "you're welcome" before snagging another plate and filling it for herself. Plopping down at her usual place at the table -- the chair farthest from his -- she speared the stack and lifted it to her mouth, only to pause at the 6 sets of eyes still staring at her. Growling, she simply gripped the fork tighter.

"The hell're you lookin at? I ain't the waiter, go get your own damn plates!"

Shoving the forkful into her mouth, she simply sat there as the other chairs scraped against the floor in a frenzied cacaphony and everyone else jostled their way to the stove as though someone had stuck a pin in each of them.


End file.
